


Changes Everything Deleted Scene: December 25, 1995, London

by Maiasaura



Series: Changes Everything Universe [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Agender Character, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Queer Character of Color, Child Abuse, Misgendering, Other, Pansexual Character, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Queer Character, Romance, female-agender relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-25
Updated: 2015-10-25
Packaged: 2018-04-28 03:18:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5075782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/pseuds/Maiasaura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Christmas, 1995, from Neville's POV </p><p>Song: </p><p>"Cause I am lost without you<br/>I cannot live at all<br/>My whole world surrounds you<br/>I stumble then I crawl </p><p>And you could be my someone<br/>You could be my scene<br/>You know that I will save you<br/>From all of the unclean<br/>I wonder what you're doing<br/>I wonder where you are<br/>There's oceans in between us<br/>But that's not very far." </p><p>~ Puddle of Mudd, "Blurry".</p>
            </blockquote>





	Changes Everything Deleted Scene: December 25, 1995, London

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Changes Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3482945) by [Maiasaura](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maiasaura/pseuds/Maiasaura). 



> Trigger warnings for mentions of past abuse, actual current abuse, mentions of misgendering, actual misgendering, and the mildest of sexual content.

December 25, 1995

 

Neville POV

 

It had been a long time since I had dreaded a Christmas.

 

_Wouldn’t have the energy for this if I slept a thousand years._

I groggily opened my eyes. My tiny spec of planet earth hadn’t faced the sun yet, but my eyes were open anyway. I knew I had to get up. I looked over at Maggie. She was asleep.

 

She was always happiest when she was asleep.

 

Her face was relaxed, and her mouth was partially open, and soft snores were leaving her lips. I would never tell her she snored. She’d try to fix it, and make the soft little sounds go away. I didn’t want it fixed. I wanted it to stay.

 

She always had to improve herself, and be the person she thought others wanted her to be. I just wanted her to be her.

 

Her long glorious hair was all over her face, so I gently brushed it aside. I leaned down and pressed my lips to her cheek. The feeling of the soft skin underneath my lips sent chills down my spine. I wanted to feel more of her beneath my lips, but I knew I couldn’t. It wasn’t time yet. She wasn’t ready yet.

 

Or maybe she was, and she was waiting on me.

 

 _Just tell her about your parents_ , Hermione had said.

 

_Just tell her. You don’t have to tell me, or Harry, but if you tell her, I’m telling you –_

I didn’t know how to tell people about my parents.

 

I didn’t know how to tell people much of anything.

 

Words can form, and can come out of my mouth, sometimes. But other times, it was more that they stayed there, a promise, a chance, a hypothetical, a what-if.

 

Most of the times words were a what-if, for me.

 

_Gran’s waiting._

A groan left my lips before I could stop it. I looked down at Maggie, who remained asleep. She could sleep through anything. Except her own mind.

 

I wanted to go inside of her mind, with my sword. I wanted to stand there and face her monsters. I wanted to stare each of them down and cut them in half. I wanted to fight off her demons in her brain and leave her safe and happy.

 

Why life had decided that was impossible, I did not know.

 

“Happy Christmas,” I whispered to her sleeping form. She usually said Merry Christmas. Sometimes I did too. I think she did because her dad’s American. I smiled slightly.

 

_You’re perfect._

I got up and got dressed, swallowing heavily. I didn’t like _always_ having to wear these clothes. My legs itched for something other than pants. My body itched for something other than a jumper. I itched. I itched all over. I needed to shave. My beard was getting too long again.

 

I walked into the bathroom and carefully trimmed it down to short length. I nervously looked at myself in the mirror. My hair was still too short. I touched the ends of it, my hand shaking madly.

 

A sob left my body before I could give it permission.

 

I rapidly turned away from the mirror and walked out of the loo. I wandered down into the kitchen, looking for Gran. I tried to forget the feeling of Umbridge grabbing my hair and chopping it off.

 

I tried to forget her screaming at me.

 

_YOU ARE A BOY!_

_YOU ARE A BOY!_

_YOU ARE A BOY, YOU FREAK, YOU HEATHEN!_

I swallowed, “Gran?”

 

“Coming, Neville, just give me _one_ moment,” her voice called from another point in the kitchen.

 

It always was one moment, with her.

 

“I want to get going,” I insisted, though my voice was quiet. She did not respond.

 

I wanted to spend Christmas with someone who could – and did – treat me like a person. Not an object to fulfill their wishes.

 

 _I am not my father, Gran_.

 

How could I possibly be?

 

I did not know him. Not really.

 

“Come on, let’s go! Why are you just standing there?” Gran appeared out of nowhere, acting like I was the reason we had not yet left.

 

“I was waiting for you,” I muttered irritably.

 

“Don’t slouch. Come on,” she ordered. I followed her out of the dingy building and into the street. The sun was finally visible from my spot on the earth. The sun was not, however, fully visible. There were clouds. Well, it was London. There were always clouds.

 

But these clouds were thick, and they were filled with water. Water had condensed around bits of dust and the clouds were too thick for me to really see the sun. It was just slightly lighter than before, I supposed.

 

Above me, I could see that it was starting to snow.

 

“Hurry up! We don’t want to get caught in it,” Gran insisted. I followed her. My body ached to be back with Maggie. I was happy in her arms. I was warm in her arms. I was…

 

I _thought_ I was loved in her arms.

 

I was _pretty sure_ I was loved in her arms.

 

But how could I be sure of anything? I was limited to my perception. For all I knew, _I_ was the crazy one in St. Mungo’s, sitting in a cot, imagining a reality that was better for me than the one I was in.

 

Granted, my imagination was pretty shitty, then. If it was good at its job, I would be snogging her.

 

The thought of her lips on mine made my heart lodge in my throat.

 

I had never wanted _anything_ so much in my whole existence.

 

Gran apparated; we were near St. Mungo’s.

 

I hated apparating.

 

I hated St. Mungo’s.

 

“You have gotten to spend time with your friends every Christmas for four years,” Gran said sternly, “You can come this _one time_.”

 

“Yes, Gran,” I responded dully. She tittered and grumbled more as we waited in the line. It was too early for this, but Christmas breakfast was free for the guest of permanent residences, and it usually was pretty good, and we were there when it would start, so it would all be fresh.

 

I might even get to have some bacon.

 

“Hurry up!” Gran urged. I had been lost in thought again, and the line was moving forward. I didn’t want to see them. I didn’t like seeing them.

 

_Why couldn’t I be Harry?_

_Harry didn’t have to watch his parents not be **human** anymore. _

I groaned. I was selfish. I was self-centered. I was horrible. I was a freak.

 

What else was new?

 

Certainly not St. Mungo’s. It still smelled like sick people. Like bile and boils and sores and blood. It smelled like everything I had ever hated in the entirety of my life. It smelled like pain. It smelled like feeling alone.

 

I felt alone.

 

Maggie didn’t smell like this. She smelt like. She smelt like smoke, the kind of smoke from a campfire in the woods, the smoke that makes you happy, because it’s keeping you warm. Not smoke that means your life is being ruined… not that smoke…

 

She smelled like dust right after rain. There was a word for that. Hermione told me once. What was the word? Petri something. Petrichor. She was dust after rain. She was the smell of water finally infusing the dry, caked earth. She was refreshing… she was life renewed…

 

She smelled like rocks. Well. That made sense, didn’t it? She smelled like the earth in all its forms. She was the ground on which I stood, she was the anchor for my roots, she was the soil that held me down, she was my source of nutrients, of life, of stability, of joy –

 

When I was with her I was not alone. I was the opposite, whether we were just friends giggling in the library or almost – somethings in a bed trying to sleep. Hopefully almost – somethings. I didn’t know anymore. A lot of time had passed.

 

 _Just tell her_.

 

The thought made me want to laugh. I never would be able to. I was trapped in a land of limbo, of indecision, of immobility, of solitude.

 

I was alone.

 

“Come _on!_ ”

 

My gran’s voice would always jar me back to reality…

 

We walked up the stairs. It was getting to be later in the morning. It was time for breakfast, now. My stomach growled. Gran looked at me critically.

 

“Do _not_ stuff your face in there.”

 

“Yes, Gran.”

 

“It looks undignified.”

 

“I know, Gran.”

 

“You are getting pudgy –“

 

“I’ve always _been_ pudgy.”

 

“You are getting pudgi _er_. Is that Maggie making you neglect yourself?”

 

“No, Gran.”

 

“Good. What are you two?”

 

“Friends, Gran.”

 

“Hmmm.”

 

“We’ve been through a lot, Gran.”

 

“Yes, I am aware. Does she know where you are, today?”

 

I hesitated.

 

“Hmm? Does she?”

 

“… Yes.”

 

“So you’ve finally told her, then?”

 

“… Yes.”

 

“Good. That was nonsense. There is no reason to feel ashamed of your parents.”

 

“I’m not ashamed –“

 

“You have a funny way of showing it!”

 

“I know.”

 

I followed her into the closed ward. It was quiet. People were sleeping, but there was a buffet out in the middle. I picked up a plat, and put some bacon on it, and a sticky roll. Gran watched me critically as I started nibbling on the bacon. Blue had been eating all of it lately. I didn’t mind, but it was nice to have some.

 

“Come, Neville!”

 

I followed Gran to the end of the ward. My parents were up, and they were being them. Mum was smiling at the wall. Dad was babbling to a ball. I sat next to Mum as Gran talked to my Dad, as though h understood a word she was saying.

 

“Happy Christmas, Mum,” I whispered softly. She smiled at me now, instead of the wall, but did nothing else. I didn’t want to look at her anymore. Looking at her made me want to cry. Looking at her reminded me that she was like this.

 

I didn’t say much, I just sat next to her for a while. I finished my food and I looked at the wall with Mum. It was our favorite activity. I didn’t have to look at her, and I got to do something with her, that she apparently enjoyed.

 

“Neville! Talk to your father!”

 

I got up and silently switched. Dad was babbling.

 

“I am a man o’er the sea, and the sea did sing to me. I am a man without a bee, and with that bee I dee,” he muttered to the ball.

 

I swallowed and stared at my hands.

 

“Happy Christmas, Dad,” I muttered. Dad said nothing that made sense back. He babbled to his ball. I clawed at my hands.

 

“Neville!”

 

“Then what happened, Dad?” I whispered, like I was talking to a baby. Dad babbled back. His words were not in an order that conveyed meaning. His words were slurred and random. His words weren’t words. They were sounds that vaguely resembled words to me, because I spoke a language that used those sounds as words. They weren’t words to him. They were sounds that he knew because at one point he could speak the language that they were words for. They didn’t have meaning for him or for me.

 

“Uh huh? And then what?” I mumbled. If he were a baby, I could comfort myself that I was teaching him how to talk, that I was showing him how language worked. Here was I was doing nothing. Here I was pretending to converse with a man who didn’t know that was what we were doing. Here I was talking to a wall.

 

He babbled on, and I humored Gran, and I hoped we would leave early, so I could go back to Maggie, and hold her, and caress her, and feel her in my arms, because even if we weren’t almost-somethings, at least I could feel the warmth of her existence and be reminded that more people cared about me than a woman who just wanted me to be my Dad, and parents who didn’t want much of anything anymore.

 

“Well,” Gran finally said after a while. I looked up at her hopefully.

 

“I suppose we can go,” she reluctantly admitted. I happily stood up, and eagerly followed her as she opened up the blinds blocking us from view. I was going to go home, and I was going to see Mags, and that would make the day better. I wouldn’t have to wallow in feelings of loss and grief and anger and injustice and selfishness. I could just be with her and smell her smell of smoke, dust, and earth…

 

“Don’t look so happy,” Gran scolded, “You are disrespecting your parents, after all they did so you could be happy and alive –“

 

Selfish.

 

Thanks, Gran.

 

I stared down at my shoes. The sadness filled my heart again and overwhelmed it. I didn’t have a single cell in my body that felt something other than it. Was sadness an epigenetic trait? I loved learning about that, now. It was so new. Perhaps all of my happy hormone releasing genes had been methylated to “off”. Gran was the enzyme that added that methyl group. I didn’t have an enzyme to remove it… only time…

 

I shuffled behind her, digging my hands in my pockets, hoping that the trip home would be fast, and that I could pretend that I wasn’t alone, that I could pretend that I was with Maggie, maybe just for a second as I held her, though it was a lie… everything was a lie… my life, a lie… concocted by my gran to comfort her after losing her son…

 

“Ne… Neville?”

 

Usually I heard that thick Scottish accent and felt my heart soar with joy. Usually. This was not usually. I briefly looked up – they were all there. Hermione, with her bushy hair and thick eyebrows and angled but soft face and dark skin and small frame and short height. Harry, with his normal height and skinny libs and torso and messy dark hair and pale-ish skin and glasses and eyes like hers and a scar that made him oh so different. Elena, with her dark red hair down to her shoulders and as straight as I was not and her eyes like hers and freckles and pale skin and small body and short height but still before she would grow.

 

And there was she, dark and curvy and muscular and strong and soft and her hair short because she wanted to make me feel better and her eyes as green as the plants I loved and her thick lips open with shock and her body angled towards me and her hands shaking at her sides.

 

Gran was shorter than me, but I crouched behind her anyway. My heart was in my throat, my brain was pounding, and I knew I had done it now. I had waited too long. She would be furious I hadn’t told her. I had fucked up. I had fucked up. I had fucked up.

 

“Ah, yes, hello everyone,” Gran said cheerfully, a one-hundred percent different voice than when we were alone, “We were just on our way back to Headquarters –“

 

_Please don’t ask, please don’t ask, please don’t ask –_

“What are you doing here?” a higher voice than Maggie’s, but just as Scottish – Elena – asked.

 

“Neville, you told me you’d told your friend where you’d gone today.”

 

She was being stern again. I briefly flickered my eyes to hers.

 

“IdunnoIdidnthinkitwouldmatter,” I mumbled as softly as I could, so none of them could hear me.

 

“Neville, not only have you _lied_ to me, but you haven’t told your friends about your parents, Neville?” Gran snapped. She was furious. I would be yelled at on the way home.

 

Oh _why_ did they have to be here? Why did _she_ have to be here?

 

I stared at the ceiling and breathed in deeply. I was going to cry at any moment. I was on the verge. I shook my head, and I knew I wanted to melt into the floor.

 

“Erm… we can… we can go,” Maggie whispered, “We weren’t – if Neville doesn’t want to –“

 

There was a reason I loved her.

 

“There is nothing for Neville to be ashamed of!” Gran barked, as though I were some sort of dog to be yelled at, “You should be _proud_ Neville, _proud!_ They didn’t give their health and their sanity so their only son would be ashamed of them, you know!”

 

 _Son_.

 

I flinched.

 

“I’m not ashamed.”

 

The tears were coming out of my eyes now. I couldn’t stop them. Was it the misunderstanding, that she had had my whole life, that I was ashamed, when in reality, I was in a state of perpetual grief? Was it the misunderstanding, that she had had my whole life, that I was a boy?

 

Was it Maggie, seeing this unfold for the first time?

 

“Well, you’ve got a funny way of showing it, honestly!” Gran snapped, turning away form me, “My son and his wife were tortured into insanity by You-Know-Who’s followers.”

 

I heard them all make sounds of distress. I wish Gran would call him Voldemort. She was giving him more power, power that he didn’t deserve.

 

“They were Aurors, you know, and very well respected within the Wizarding community – members of the Order, you know, prominent ones, I was so proud – highly gifted, the pair of them, just like you all, of course, we were _so_ worried Neville wouldn’t inherit his parents’ talent when he was a child, but he’s really blossomed in Hogwarts.”

 

_Because Maggie’s been the one caring for me, and she doesn’t want me to be my father, she wants me to be **me**. _

“I… yes, Alice, dear, what is it?”

 

I looked up. Mum was walking towards me. She had forgotten the gum wrapper. It was her present every time. I reached out for it.

 

“Again?” Gran said, sadly, “Very well, Alice dear, very well – Neville, take it, whatever it is…”

 

Gran was only sad when my parents reminded her they were gone.

 

I was only happy when my parents reminded me they were my parents.

 

I joyfully took the wrapper. I needed it.

 

“Very nice, dear,” Gran simpered.

 

“Thanks, Mum,” I mumbled. I couldn’t stop crying.

 

Mum left. I was glad. I didn’t want to see her anymore.

 

“Well, Neville, if you’d like to stay with your friends, I have some errands I’d like to run before going back to headquarters,” Gran suggested.

 

I didn’t, but I shrugged anyway. I wanted to be alone. I put the wrapper in my pocket, knowing it would drive her crazy, but I couldn’t get rid of something Mum had given me. She left without another word.

 

“Neville… I’m so sorry… we didn’t know, none of us did,” Hermione’s crisp London accent whispered.

 

“I knew,” Harry’s Scottish accent admitted, muttering. I looked up in amazement, mouthing thank you. He nodded back, making eye contact for the first time that holiday, but I could see my pain mirrored back at me. My face fell into a grateful expression that I couldn’t stop.

 

“Erm… Dumbledore told me last year but he made me promise I wouldn’t mention it,” Harry explained. I continued to look grateful. I couldn’t look at Maggie.

 

“Neville, we don’t find this funny at all, you realize, yeah?” Elena urged, “There’s nothing funny about this.”

 

I shrugged. I didn’t know if I believed her. I looked back down at my shoes. At least they were familiar.

 

Maggie was crying. I could hear.

 

“Let’s, erm…” Hermione was speechless. What a strange phenomenon.

 

“Guys, let’s go,” Harry insisted – what a wonderful best mate he truly was – “We’ll see you back at the house.” I could hear him leaving… I could hear them all leaving… but her sniffling wasn’t leaving… her crying was still here… I was still crying, too, but I couldn’t do anything about it. I was trapped in my spot, I was motionless, I was stuck.

 

I was alone.

 

And then I wasn’t.

 

Her arms were wrapped around me and I was being pressed up against her as tightly as possible and I could feel every inch of her and I was crying into her shoulder and I was hunched over awkwardly but that was okay because she was around me and I wasn’t alone and I was warm and cared for and she was holding me and crying with me and I didn’t know how to stop crying so I just kept going until I ran out of tears.

 

“Neville,” she choked out. I couldn’t ignore her any longer. I looked up at her, and her face was blotchy and puffy and filled with tears.

 

“Why didn’t you tell me?” she asked desperately, pleading me with me with her eyes. I shrugged, unable to form a word. She grabbed my hand – it was so small and warm, her hand – and pulled me out of the ward and into the corridor. Her eyes were kind, but determined. I couldn’t ignore them. I could never ignore her for long.

 

“I… guess…” I paused, I couldn’t get the words out. I could never get the words out. The words weren’t words I could form with my lips. “I… at first… I…”

 

“Let’s walk,” Maggie offered quietly, a sniffle wracking her body, “Let’s go out into London, for old times, right? It’ll be out of this building, we can just walk along the streets and t-talk.”

 

I nodded. I wouldn’t mind leaving the hospital. The hospital smelled of sadness and being alone and with her I didn’t want to feel like that. She was the _opposite_ of the hospital.

 

She was still holding my hand and suddenly I felt her fingers go in between each of mine – my heart was in my ears now, it was pounding so loud I couldn’t hear anything else, and my breath caught in my throat. We had held hands many times before, but nothing like this. We walked out of the hospital and walked down the street, and my heart was still in my ears, so loud it was like a drum pounding against them, and I stared up at the sky rather than at her, because I didn’t know what I wanted to see on her face but it certainly wasn’t pity and if I saw that I didn’t know if I could handle it.

 

“I… I don’t think I told you… at first,” I managed to whisper, but my voice was fighting against every word, “B-because… because I thought you’d find it funny….”

 

“Of course I wouldn’t –“ she protested.

 

“I know you wouldn’t…. I mean like… when we f-first met…” I paused and swallowed, “After that… it’s s-so hard…. For me to talk about…”

 

“I understand, completely,” Maggie reassured. The snow was falling heavily around our heads and her fingertips were cold, but I knew she didn’t care.

 

“I just... there never seemed… to be a good time,” I stammered, “When… when do you… when d’you _tell_ someone something like th-that?” How do I tell her that my life was ruined when I was one year old?

 

“After the lesson on Unforgivable Curses last year would have ben a good moment,” Maggie offered. I looked at her face – it was soft and caring and helpful and her eyes were endless and her lips were puffed up with cold and her cheeks were slightly redder than usual and my heart left my ears and went into my throat instead.

 

“I was… I was not r-ready… I t-tried… but I couldn’t… get the words out,” I admitted, my face contorting into a frown as I tried to remember what breathing was like.

 

“Do you just… not like to think about it?” her face was contorted – like when she was trying to solve a transfiguration problem. She was trying to understand. I nodded as fast as I could, even though I quite liked that face, and enjoyed watching it, but which of her faces did I not like?

 

“I am… angry… and afraid… and upset,” I managed to get out, but I was crying heavily again, and I could feel her squeeze my hand so tightly and her thumb rub up against my fingers, and it made my heart swoop slightly, and I couldn’t taste anything properly, and the pounding was in my ears again, but she wanted me to explain, no, she _needed_ me to explain, and I had to force myself to keep going…

 

“I am angry, because they took away my parents,” I whispered. I thought of my old dementor memory of them screaming in the background of my mind, and how at one point it dawned on me that they were never going to get better, and that they would always be less sapient than I.

 

Now when the dementors came, I remembered Harry coming back, and saying he lost Maggie. He didn’t know where she was, but she was not with him.

 

“I am afraid, because they could come after me,” I continued. I remembered finding out that Moody had been Barty Crouch Jr. all along. What if he had put me under the cruciatus curse? Put _Maggie_ under the cruciatus curse? What if Bellatrix Lestrange got out of Azkaban? What if she decided that I was next? My heart wasn’t in my ears anymore, it was in my chest, and it was loud and it was erratic and I wanted to run just at the mere _thought_ of her leaving Azkaban.

 

“I am upset, because my whole childhood, I thought I wasn’t good enough…” I couldn’t ignore that bit. I couldn’t just leave it out. It was a part of it. It was, perhaps, the _most_ important part of it. Memories of Gran, yelling at me for not knowing magical abilities… memories of Gran, wishing I would stop looking at plants and start, perhaps, trying to levitate a bee on the windowsill instead… memories of _all_ my relatives, urging me to do some magic, but _never_ saying it would be okay if I didn’t…

 

Suddenly, I was being held tighter than I ever had been in my life. Her arms were all around me, I was wrapped up in her, in her smell and her warmth and her softness and her strength, and it felt like coming home. I wrapped my arms around her to bring her even closer to me, and I couldn’t help it, the tears were leaving my eyes again, probably because I could never stop them, and I had eleven years of feeling worthless to make up for, you don’t just get rid of that in five years of friendship…

 

After a while, I pulled back, and I sniffled, “I guess… at some point… I was so… used to b-bottling it up… and n-never talking about it… it was hard to start…”

 

“Did you… think about telling me in the summer?” she asked. I stared at her face.

 

She had been so frail and tiny on that roof. She had spent the night shivering in her spot, and I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t know if I could hold her or not, so I just watched her shiver and shake in her spot.

 

How could I burden a person so small and scared and dying with something like this?

 

But now she was big and strong and could take on the world and I knew if I didn’t tell her she would never forgive me…

 

“I did,” I mumbled, “But… I wanted you to focus on recovering… and then… when we went back to Hogwarts, Umbridge was around, and I… I didn’t know how to t-tell you when we had s-so much to worry about…”

 

We still did…

 

She nodded furiously, her hair bouncing all around her face as she did so. It was to her shoulders now, and I knew she hated that, but I knew it was for me. My heart was in my throat again.

 

“So… can you tell me the whole story?” she asked. My brain immediately entered a panic.

 

“Please.”

 

I stared at her, the snow falling into my eyelashes and blocking my view. She was so desperate in appearance, so needful.

 

 _Just tell her_.

 

When did Hermione become my conscience?

 

“I wouldn’t… ask, except… I told you mine,” she whispered.

 

She had. She had been vulnerable with me, and lonely and needy and open and honest, when I had no right to demand that of her. She had every right. I nodded furiously; I would do this for her. I would make us equals again. We walked together to a bench and I sat down on it, staring out into the street in front of us.

 

“When… I was a baby… My parents… were huge members of the Order. They actually faced V-Voldemort three times… and got away three times.”

 

“Wow,” she breathed next to me.

 

“Yeah,” I sighed, now staring down at my clown feet, “This made them t-targets. So they went into h-hiding. They were friends with your parents, Maggie, and Harry’s parents, and Sirius and Lupin, I th-think. That generation. They were in the y-year above Sirius and Lupin, in Gryffindor.”

 

“Makes sense,” Maggie agreed softly.

 

“W-Well… when Harry defeated Voldemort, they thought they were safe. Everyone did. So they came out of hiding, removed the secret from the flat and everything. But they were big in the resistance movement, you know,” I sighed, _Like us_ , “So…”

 

“So…” Maggie urged.

 

“So, a group of Death Eaters, lead by Bellatrix Lestrange…”

 

“Sirius’ cousin?” Maggie asked sharply. I nodded, still staring out into the street, which was quickly becoming covered by snow.

 

It had been hard to realize that Sirius wasn’t like his cousin, and still, sometimes, I would forget that I shouldn’t fear him…

 

“Lead by her, and including Barty Crouch Junior… attacked my parents,” I sniffled back up some of the snot that had accumulated in my nostril, “They were convinced that they knew where Voldemort was… They put them… under the cruciatus curse… so long they went insane.”

 

I briefly looked at her. She looked horrified, as though Voldemort had just come back, or Umbridge had just tortured me again.

 

“They attacked them in our apartment, late at night. They must have gotten out of bed and met them in the kitchen… I was asleep, but I woke up when they screamed. I still remember the screaming when the Dementors are around,” I murmured.

 

“Oh my god,” Maggie gasped, and her voice was heartbreakingly pained.

 

“They didn’t care about me, so they left, but the neighbors had heard and gotten their description. So they didn’t get away with it at least,” I mumbled, “And then Gran took me in.”

 

_And then my life was ruined._

“Neville…” Maggie whispered. I didn’t want to hear what she had to say just yet. I needed to keep rambling.

 

“We visit them often,” I filled in the airspace, “When I was a child, every Christmas, and on their birthdays and mine. But since I came to Hogwarts and started spending time with you guys… it’s more just a few visits every time I come home.”

 

“I’m sorry, Neville, we shouldn’t have pushed you into staying –“

 

“Are you kidding?” I actually managed a laugh, _I hated Christmas until I came to Hogwarts. Christmas was the worst holiday. Everyone around me was happy but I was with them and sad. Christmas was horrible._

_Since I met you, it is not._

“I was grateful to not have to go. Every time I go I just get depressed. My dad can talk, but he doesn’t know anything that’s happening around him, and he barely moves. My mum still seems to have some awareness… but she can’t talk.”

 

“Oh Nev,” Maggie whimpered. And there it was. The pity. I looked at her, staring at her heartbroken face. This was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted her to think of me as her equal, not think of me as less than her. I didn’t want pity. I wanted understanding.

 

“I also don’t particularly… like the idea of being pitied,” I admitted. She deserved my honesty.

 

“I’m not pitying you,” she protested. I frowned. What else would she be feeling?

 

“I’m _not_ ,” she insisted, “I’m… heartbroken for you…”

 

I swallowed. _Heartbroken_. What a strong word. It was somehow, the opposite of pity. She was experiencing my pain with me, and she was finding it just as much a burden as I had. I stared at our hands, still intertwined. She was bearing my burden with me. She was helping me. She was taking my pain as her own.

 

“I… I don’t want anything bad to happen to you, you know that,” Maggie continued, “And I can’t… I can’t do anything to help you… to fix this… and I desperately wish I could.”

 

I looked at her again. Her face was soft and kind and caring and loving and everything I had ever wanted to see on another person’s visage since I was young and realized that my Gran did not actually feel these emotions. My heart was going at breakneck speeds. She was with me. She was not above me or below me. She was with me.

 

My mind was in a state of confusion that I couldn’t actually process. I got up automatically, but she was steadfastly holding my hand as so she came with me to the middle of the street, the snow heavy around our heads. I didn’t know what was happening right now. So many different paths lay before me and I was a deer standing in the headlights, unable to choose which way to go.

 

“But you _have_ helped me, Mags,” I managed to choke out, turning to look at her and her confused face, “You… if it weren’t for you… who would I be? I’d be some… quiet child… sitting in the backs of classrooms… not sticking up for myself… not doing what’s right with you and Harry and Hermione… not _fighting_ for something… not continuing the work of my parents…”

 

“You would be,” Maggie insisted. She always believed in me, always, no questions asked.

 

“Would I? Maybe this year, if the DA still happened,” I acknowledged, “And Harry encouraged me to do better… but the only person who really did that in my life before the DA was you. And Hermione and Harry, but only after you started it.”

 

She watched me for a long time, her face twisting into that heartbroken face again. She threw her arms around me and I was safe and home again, breathing in the smell of her sharply, urging the rocks and dust and fire to enter my nostrils and be the only thing I ever experienced. I wanted _her_ to be the only thing I had ever experienced, and by holding onto her as tightly as I could, I felt like I could make this happen.

 

“You’ll never be alone, as long as I’m alive,” Maggie confirmed. I looked at her desperately, needing that to be a promise, needing that to be the anthem that got me through a war that could tear my life to shreds.

 

“I won’t?” I begged.

 

“You won’t,” she insisted. I pressed my nose to hers, and being so close to her face brought my heart into my very mouth, everything was pounding and I could barely think straight. She knew, now.

 

_Just tell her._

Well, I’ve told her.

 

“You won’t either,” I managed to whisper, but I was so scared that everything would go wrong that I could barely get the words out.

 

“I won’t?” she repeated, looking vulnerable.

 

“You won’t,” I urged, hoping to reassure her. I watched her, and my mind was whirring, and she was beautiful, and she was everything, and she was lips and hair and skin and eyes and cheeks and nose and ears and everything, and her green eyes were on fire again, but it wasn’t a fire of anger, it was a fire of need, and I knew what she needed, I had known for months.

 

_Just kiss her. Just kiss her. Just kiss her. Just kiss her._

I wanted to so bad. My body ached for it. Every cell cried out for it, for a kiss. Every cell had been crying out for a kiss since I realized she felt for me in the summer… no… every cell had been crying out for a kiss since I realized _I_ felt for _her_ in first year… I had wanted this forever…

 

“Neville…” she begged. I knew. I knew I had to do it. It was time. I had to do it. I had to kiss her.

 

_The bastard._

I had to ask, first.

 

“Can I –“

 

“Yes,” she cut me off before I could continue. I looked at her in amazement. She sounded as needy, as urgent, as _I_ was. I swallowed. It was now or never, now or never, now or never, now or never –

 

I urged myself forward and pressed my lips to hers.

 

They were just as soft as I had always imagined. And she was just as soft as I had always known. I held her tightly, and I couldn’t stop the sound of joy that left my mouth as she pulled herself closer to me and drew me deeper into the kiss, so I pulled myself even deeper by holding her as tightly as I could, because I wanted us to fuse. I wanted her to be a permanent part of me. She was warmth – no, she was heat – there was a heat spreading from her lips to every corner of me and it _fed_ me, it kept me _alive_ , it made me ready, I could take on anything, I could kill Voldemort right now, if you asked me to, just ask –

 

She opened her mouth against mine and I could feel breath coming onto my lips and I shivered madly. Suddenly every nerve on my body was on fire just as she was. My heart rate quickened faster than it had ever been before and blood was rushing everywhere but I couldn’t stop it as it flushed me in places that were _wildly_ inappropriate. I tried to ignore it as I kept my lips pressed to hers for longer than what was probably “normal”, but I did pull back eventually, because eventually I had to know what she would say.

 

She was flushed and her eyes were shining with something that seemed like pure joy – it probably _was_ pure joy, because that was certainly what _I_ was feeling – and then she was smiling, and it was the widest smile I had ever seen on her face, and it was the most wonderful thing I had ever seen in the entirety of my life. I couldn’t help it, I smiled back.

 

And she was kissing me again. And she was pressing herself so tightly into me that I knew it was a lost cause – yup, I had a boner. I couldn’t ignore it, and I was sighing heavily, but it was more out of a strange sense of need than anything else. I couldn’t stop myself from opening my mouth, and we were both breathing into each other, and I enjoyed moving my mouth against hers, and she was everything and all and the only thing I was experiencing and for that I could die right then and there and be joyful forever.

 

We still hadn’t said any words, though, and we needed to, and so when we pulled back I drew more of my courage. We had kissed. I had cared for her. We had been through _everything_ together. I had to do this – I _would_ do this –

 

“I love you,” I managed to whisper. Her face was somehow _more_ joyful and I knew no matter what she said in response I’d be –

 

“I love you,” she whispered.

 

 _I love you_.

 

She loves me.

 

I couldn’t help it. I started crying. The tears were overflowing and pouring out of my eyes.

 

She loves me.

 

 _She_ loves _me._

_She loves me._

“You do?” I mumbled, I needed confirmation, I needed her to repeat it.

 

“Of course I do,” Maggie laughed softly, “How could I not?”

 

I shrugged, still sobbing, and suddenly we were kissing again, and I was so glad, and I was so happy, because _she loved me_ –

 

She was pulling me away from the street and we were on the bench again. I wasn’t processing anything other than that one happy little fact. I held tightly to her because I had to, because I needed to, because _she loved me_.

 

“How… how long have you…” I needed to know. I needed to know _everything_. She shrugged and smiled at me, and she was everything, she was love and joy and goodness and I was dying of joy right then and there.

 

“I dunno… that’s a complicated question,” Maggie laughed.

 

“Try me,” I begged, smiling at her.

 

“I… you first,” she reiterated, reaching out and holding my face in her hand. Her hand was rough and yet small and caring. I pressed my face closer to it. I wanted to feel _all_ of her. I nodded.

 

“Okay… erm… I guess… I _dunno_ , Mags,” I managed to laugh. She giggled at me and it made me blissful.

 

“When… we were first years… I didn’t know what love was, did I? I was eleven,” _and I had never been loved in living memory_ , “But since I realized… I’ve suspected it’s been since the moment I saw you. Now, love at first sight doesn’t exist… but there’s always been… something… pulling me to you… so… that…” I managed to gasp out. I flushed madly, but she was smiling, so I knew it was okay.

 

“I guess I realized it… when you and I talked first year, after I had gone off and not talked to you lot for ages,” _and I was infinitely sad_ , “When you told me I was brave.”

 

She watched me, her green studying me like I would usually study it, “How did you realize it?”

 

“I knew… I knew hearing from you… honestly, I believed you. I never believed anyone who told me I was brave. Not the Sorting Hat, not Gran, not any of my relatives, no one.” _Not that they told me, much…_

“But when you said it… I believed you…”

 

_In spite of myself._

She was smiling, “You _are_ brave.”

 

I never would let go of her ever again.

 

“You’re doing it again,” I managed to laugh. She was giggling uncontrollably.

 

“Erm… but I was eleven, and I was just like, _what_ , so I ignored it… then, second year…”

 

“You sent me the Valentine, I figured it out… last year,” Maggie admitted.

 

I flushed, but she loved me, so I wasn’t embarrassed.

 

“I basically thought… how the held o I even break this with Maggie, how does one _bring up_ that sort of thing… That backfired…” I laughed weakly.

 

“I’m sorry I was such a prat –“

 

I briefly remembered the pain at her words. She _was_ a prat, but she was thirteen.

 

“It’s okay, I was weird,” I reassured, “I Just… I realized it because… it was like you were a part of me. It wasn’t just some fancy. It’s deeper than that… it’s a part of who I _am_ , like, I’m good at herbology, I’m agender, I’m Harry Potter’s best mate, I fight Voldemort, I’m practically Hermione’s sibling… You’re… you’re my… my…”

 

“Soulmate,” she filled in.

 

_Oh_

_Thank God_

I nodded furiously, “Soulmate… yeah… just… the way I feel about you… it fills me from my head to my toes… and I couldn’t not think about it, every single day, but in that sort of way you think about parts of your body, you only notice it when you’re forced to… so when you forced me to realize that you made me believe in myself… I figured it out… and then I just… I didn’t know how to tell you…”

 

Maggie laughed weakly and buried her face in my shoulder. I was scared, but I pressed on.

 

“Erm… so then third year… when you liked that _prick_ … I just… all I wanted was for you to be happy. A weird, stupid part of me was jealous… but soon enough I just… ignored it… and I mean, I wasn’t incapable of being attracted to someone… so I liked Ginny well enough, and I went out with her, but I… when you feel about someone they way I feel about you…”

 

“No one else could begin to match that,” she offered. I nodded. She was everything.

 

And now I needed to know how she felt.

 

“So… what about you?” I begged. She watched me, her eyes soft and calculating.

 

“I suspect I fell for you around the same time you fell for me,” she murmured.

 

“You just too longer to realize it,” I nodded, feeling relief, that my entire childhood pain had been justified, “Makes sense. I often wondered why you’d _act_ like you loved me and then… didn’t do anything about it.”

 

“Sorry about that,” she murmured, and though that sorry was unnecessary, it meant the world.

 

“But… I… I _realized_ … at the…”

 

“What?” I begged, uncertain. This didn’t sound like what I thought – that she realized in London. No, this sounded like something else…

 

“At the… Yule Ball…” she muttered, looking embarrassed.

 

“You’re… you’re joshing me,” I whispered. I couldn’t wrap my head around this.

 

“Not even a little bit.”

 

“The _Yule Ball? **A year ago**?” _ I demanded, my brain a blank slate of shock.

 

“Yup,” she nodded, flushed with embarrassment.

 

“What… why didn’t you… did… what…”

 

“When you said you’d fancied someone for ages,” she explained, “And when you said that if I got hurt, you got hurt… and the way you looked at me when you said it…”

 

I managed to think enough to laugh, “I was so used to you _not_ picking up on my hints that I just didn’t even stop myself…”

 

“It worked,” she smiled.

 

“But then… why did you…” _Why didn’t you leave him…_

“I was in a relationship,” she sighed, looking remorseful, “To my more innocent self, that meant something, regardless of how much more deeply I loved you than I did that jerk. I was committed to him, and I had put in work into the relationship, and we had been together a long time… I wasn’t ready to just throw that away…”

 

I understood that. We were young, and she was scared, and that prick was abusive to boot, so that must not have helped matters.

 

“So when…. All those times he accused you of…”

 

“I was lying my ass off,” Maggie whispered.

 

All the times she had said she didn’t love me…

 

All those times I felt my heart get destroyed…

 

_He was abusing her. He was manipulating her and destroying her. It’s not her fault. It’s his._

“I mean, I figured you had feelings for me over the summer, but I just thought it was you falling for me because I was caring for you…”

 

“Nope,” Maggie reassured, “I was just finally letting myself express these feelings I had bottled up.”

 

_She really loves you. She doesn’t just love you because of what you did for her… she really loves you…_

“I feel the same about you,” she murmured.

 

I was pulled from my reverie, “You – huh?”

 

“I mean… You are a part of me too. I love you so deeply… from my head to my toes… you are a portion of my identity. You are my soulmate,” she swallowed, “I just… things like that, constant things… I don’t _notice_ them… ever… they’re just there, and it takes something terrible, like – I dunno – getting doused in gallons of cold water… for me to figure it out…”

 

 _You are my soulmate_.

 

I couldn’t help it. This was everything I had ever dreamed of for years and I would never be this happy ever again.

 

“Well,” I managed to laugh, though all I wanted to do was kiss her, “Glad to know we aren’t the same person.”

 

“Yeah,” Maggie smiled, “I’m sorry I’m an idiot.”

 

“It’s okay,” I reached over and kissed her on the forehead, “I’m sorry I am too.”

 

“No you’re –“

 

“Nah, I am,” I insisted, “I should have figured it out.” I shook my head in bemusement. When she kissed me on the cheek in the Forbidden Forest, I should have known. I should have realized what that meant, rather than just think it was her being nice. I should have realized when _I_ was the one she did science with, and talked to about _Draco prima_. I should have realized when she started touching me more, and cuddling with me more. I should have realized when she looked at me that way after I told her I was agender. I should have realized sooner.

 

“After the Yule Ball, you _did_ act different than usual, I just figured it was something else.”

 

“No,” she laughed weakly.

 

“Well, then, we were both idiots, but now it’s all okay,” I murmured. We were where we were supposed to be.

 

“Yes,” she nodded rapidly, “It is.”

 

I leaned in – I couldn’t wait any longer – and I kissed her, holding her tightly to me and trying to make up for five years of lost time and lost kisses. Her lips were so soft it sent me into waves of ecstasy, and I loved feeling her wrapped up in my arms, her small yet strong and broad frame in mine – perhaps I only thought her small because I was so large – and I was going to die of being too happy, this had to be illegal, but every cell of my body was happy and joyful and this could probably make up for decades of being alone. I opened my lips fully – hers were too – and I didn’t even hesitate, I just slid my tongue into her mouth, because I had to taste her, I had to feel her, all of her, as much as I could, because she was joy, she was safety, she was _love_. She moaned as I ran my tongue along hers – so long, I couldn’t think straight, and I couldn’t help but imagine her licking me in other places – I kissed her harder, because she had _moaned_ , and it was a sound that drove me _nuts_ – she was as close to me as she could be, but still not close enough, never close enough, as our tongues wrapped around each other and I was floating away with joy and love and bliss and Voldemort could come and kill me right now and that would be okay because at least I knew she loved me and she was kissing me and I wanted to die feeling her lips on mine.

 

She pulled back from me, gasping for air, and I smiled at her, hoping that she would never, ever forget that I loved her this much.

 

“I love you,” she whispered, her eyes shining joyfully.

 

“I love you,” I smiled, and I pulled her in for another kiss. I kept kissing her as long as I could, sometimes entangling my tongue with hers, sometimes not, eager to feel every bit of skin on her lips, eager to hold her close to me in my arms and never let go, eager to feel everything that I had hoped to feel for years, eager to feel _her_ , become one with _her_ , have her be _everything_ in actuality as well as in my mind.

 

Eventually it grew dark, and I couldn’t feel my fingers, though I could feel everything else. My hands were entangled in her hair and my arms were wrapped all the way around her, and she was basically enveloped in me, sitting in my lap and her arms around my waist as tightly as they could be, her lips pressed to mine. I pulled back and she gave me a look that was so sad I felt like I should kiss her again, but we would freeze to death if we stayed there, so I got up and I pulled her with me, walking to a café on the street.

 

“Like the old days,” I laughed.

 

“The old days of… August,” she teased, and I loved hearing her playful and happy, so I smiled at her, and ordered fish and chips.

 

I had to make up for the prat. I had to make her feel loved and safe and happy and perfect again.

 

“I think the thing I love the most about you….” I paused, looking at her and smiling, because she was joy, “Is how angry you get.”

 

“You’re kidding,” she snorted, “That’s the thing I like _least_ about me.”

 

“No… it’s indicative of your passion,” I insisted, biting into a chip. She grabbed it from me and ate the rest, and I frowned at her, but I couldn’t deny that face anything.

 

“But you just get so… fierce… about everything you do. Your transfiguration. Your archery. Your mystery solving. The DA,” I smiled, “I love seeing you talk about something you love, and getting all riled up. It’s when you’re… happiest.”

 

She smiled wider, and her eyes looked like I felt.

 

“Well, what I love most about you,” my heart soared at the words, “Is… I love how compassionate you get. I love how well you forgive everyone around you. You are the true definition of empathy, Neville. You are so gentle, and kind, and understanding, I know that you sincerely want the best for the people around you… and that’s wonderful.”

 

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. She loved me. She really loved _me_. She loved every part of me and she loved that I was kind to a fault the most.

 

“I love your laugh,” I murmured before I died of joy.

 

“I love yours,” she answered, a laugh escaping her lips that was music to my ears.

 

“I love your smile,” I beamed, hoping to get her to give that to me – yup, she immediately smiled.

 

“I love yours,” she giggled, “And I love your eyes and your hair and your stubble and everything. You are the most beautiful human in the world.”

 

My breath caught in my throat, “I disagree – you are definitely the most –“

 

“Oh dear, I think this is an impasse,” she laughed, nibbling on some of the fish.

 

“Well your hair is endless and your lips are thick and your eyes are gorgeous and your nose is long and your skin is dark and your curves are –“ my voice caught in my throat.

 

“My curves are…?” she asked, grinning cheekily at me.

 

“Large,” I mumbled.

 

She laughed out loud.

 

“I can’t help it, you’re attractive,” I admitted sheepishly.

 

“Good!” she grinned. I leaned over and kissed her and she deepened it, even though we were in the view of many other people.

 

“Well I love your softness,” she reassured, “You are big and I love it. There’s more of you to hug and to hold and to squeeze. I wish I didn’t have to reach so high to kiss you, though.”

 

I beamed at her, “I’ll always go down to kiss you.”

 

She blushed madly and I blushed madly at what I had said.

 

“I m-mean –“

 

“I know –“

 

We were both laughing at my mistake and out of nervousness. I _did_ want to kiss her there – the thought brought back my boner, oh hello my old friend – but not yet. It was too soon. I wanted to enjoy kissing her, for now. I wanted to enjoy her tongue against mine. I wanted to experience everything and draw it out slowly, carefully, memorizing every new sensation.

 

“I love that look you get on your face when you’re trying to figure out a mystery,” I finally managed to say, when I had finished laughing.

 

“Oh?”

 

“Yeah – you just – you get this look of _sheer concentration_ \- it’s fascinating to watch, and your nose crinkles up all cute, and your eyes twinkle with excitement, and your brow is furrowed but its adorable, and your lips are pursed together and just focus _so hard_ at the problem you’re trying to solve…”

 

“Well I love the look you get on your face when you’re talking about something you love,” Maggie beamed, “You just get so excited, your eyes light up and your entire face is open and eager and your mouth is always open even if you’re not talking and your cheeks are flushed with joy and you just look like nothing bad could ever happen ever again.”

 

I beamed at her, “Even if I ramble?”

 

“Oh that’s when that face is the cutest, because you’ve usually delved into a state of pure bliss by that point. I remember the first time you rambled about Bobotubers…”

 

I laughed loudly. I had talked for hours, and she had listened to every word –

 

We had been second years… how did I not _know_ she loved me?

 

“I love the way you care for Blue…” I whispered, “You’re so kind and patient and gentle…”

 

“I love the way you handle your plants, it’s like you’re a doting parent…”

 

“I love the way your fingers tap on the nearest surface when you’re horrifically bored.”

 

“I love the way your leg shakes when you’re in herbology lecture and you just want to get to working with the plants…”

 

“I love holding you in my arms,” I managed to whisper, “And I love the way you look when you sleep.”

 

“Oh?” she asked, flushing.

 

“You just look so peaceful and joyful. Until this afternoon, I had never seen you happier,” I admitted. She beamed at me.

 

“Well you look absolutely _adorable_ when you sleep. You just look… young. And innocent,” she admitted.

 

“I love the feeling of you touching me,” I whispered.

 

“I love holding you close to me,” she responded just as quietly.

 

“I love your skin,” I murmured.

 

“You do?” she asked, looking shocked.

 

“Why are you surprised?” I asked in equal shock.

 

“It’s… so dark,” she mumbled in embarrassment.

 

“it’s the most beautiful shade I’ve ever seen,” I reassured immediately, holding tightly to her hand, “You are gorgeous and wonderful and everything about you is perfect.”

 

She smiled at me, and tears were falling freely from her eyes.

 

“I love yours, too, it’s pale but it is good,” she smiled, “You are soft and snow like.”

 

I grinned at her and leaned across to kiss her again. I couldn’t help it.

 

“I love that you pulled yourself out of what happened to you,” I whispered against her lips.

 

“I love that you helped me through it,” she smiled, tears falling onto my cheeks. I knew people were staring at us. I couldn’t stop myself, though.

 

“I love that you’re agender.”

 

And now I was crying in full, and she pulled my chair closer to hers and held me tightly in her arms as I rested my head against her shoulder – I wanted to rest it in her ample bosom, but I stopped myself, as soft and comforting as it would be – and I cried and cried until I couldn’t anymore.

 

“I do. I promise.”

 

“I love that you’re just as queer as me,” I murmured into her arm.

 

“Queer at last, queer at last, thank God almighty, we are queer at last,” she laughed weakly.  I sat up to kiss her again, and she held my face lovingly in her hands, rubbing small circles into my cheeks with her thumbs. It was so comforting I knew I could face Bellatrix Lestrange herself right then and there and be okay, and get rid of her, and be brave.

 

She made me braver than I could ever be.

 

She heightened my good qualities and made me an even better version of myself, and I liked to think I did the same for her.

 

“Oi! We’re closing!”

 

We were pulled out of our reverie and we walked out of the café and out into the cold, snowy street. I was flushed, and joyful, and I refused to let go of her hand.

 

“We better go back, huh?” I sighed sadly. She nodded.

 

“Erm… so…” I flushed with embarrassment and ran a hand through my hair, knowing that I needed to know this.

 

“What?” she asked in confusion.

 

“Are we… erm… what are we?” I stammered. She looked at me, frowning.

 

“Well I mean… I’d say we were girlfriend and… er… um…” she frowned, flushing.

 

“We could be… erm… significant others?” I offered.

 

“Makes us sound like we’re in our late twenties and don’t believe in the concept of marriage,” she giggled.

 

She was right, of course, “Uh… yeah,” I managed to snort, “Erm, partner?”

 

“A lesbian couple, mid-thirties, with seven dogs.”

 

I giggled despite myself, overfilled with joy.

 

“Lovers?” I offered before I could stop myself. She blushed madly and I did too.

 

“We… erm… that…” she stammered.

 

“No, you’re right,” I quickly amended, though I knew _eventually_ that term would be accurate.

 

The thought made my heart pound.

 

“Well okay, I’m your girlfriend, and you’re my gender neutral equivalent of that term?” she asked, beaming at me.

 

“It doesn’t seem strong enough a word… but I guess soulmate isn’t an official relationship term… so… yes,” I laughed softly, wanting to just drag her to a government building and marry her right then and there.

 

“Gotta work with what we have,” she smiled.

 

“You’re my Maggie,” I shrugged, smiling at the truth of this, “That’s the only term I really need.”

 

“And you’re my Neville,” she reaffirmed, and I would never _not_ be Her Neville, and I leaned down to kiss her and hold her as tightly in my arms as possible before pulling away.

 

“Well… we should go back,” I sighed, “They’re probably worried about us.”

 

“Honestly, Hermione probably figured what happened, and told everyone we were on a date,” she blushed madly again.

 

“She hates us right now,” I grinned, remember all the times she tried to get us to snog through sheer blunt force.

 

“We were both idiots,” Maggie laughed, “Let’s go.”

 

We caught the tube, and I held her the whole way home, enjoying the fact that I could wrap my arms tightly around her wherever now without consequence, and I enjoyed that her face was pressed to my neck, and her nose was tickling the hairs there, and I closed my eyes with joy as I rested my head on top of hers, the train whirring on through the city and underneath everyone and everything peacefully winding down their Christmasses.

 

Christmas would forever be my favorite day of the year from now on.

 

This made up for every terrible one that had come before… and the fact that she had realized she loved me on the last one retroactively helped…

 

We crept inside Headquarters, holding each other’s hands tightly as we snuck up to our room. I could feel my heart in my throat again. I wasn’t ready yet, as much as my body wanted it, I wanted to experience each step slowly and carefully and memorize what it felt like to kiss and hold her first.

 

“Erm… nothing should be different, right?” I asked her, begging for her to agree.

 

She nodded rapidly and I breathed with relief as she said, “No, no, we shouldn’t move too fast.”

 

“Good,” I sighed, “Not that I don’t – not that I don’t _want_ to… I just… I just want to enjoy each part of our relationship… each new thing… and not rush any of it…”

 

“I agree,” she smiled, “I wanted to enjoy every new experience with you.”

 

I kissed her again, as passionately as I could, and she sighed into my mouth. I was loath to let go, but I was getting exhausted – it had been a long day, good day or not. I walked into another room and got dressed as fast as I could, unable to bear being away from her for too long, because the moment I left her presence my body started _aching_. I ran back and to make up for this I pulled her into a long kiss, and she kissed me and wrapped herself all around me, and it took every bit of logic still in me to make me go to the bed and climb inside, facing her, aware of how close we were in the sheets and how I could feel the heat radiating from her and just so easily pull her on top of me. I stared at her, and her eyes were easily lost in, but I had thing I had to say before we slept.

 

“I…”

 

“Yeah?” she whispered in the dark.

 

“I promise,” I swallowed, “That I will be with you… and I will do anything for you… for the rest of our lives…”

 

“I promise too,” she nodded, kissing me softly. I pulled back, because I wasn’t done.

 

“But also… I promise to protect you – I _know_ you don’t’ need it – but I’m going to watch out for you, during this war, because if I lose you –“ I couldn’t get it out. The thought was so horrifying I couldn’t even _consider_ it. She leaned in and kissed me and it relaxed me. She was here now, and that was what mattered. I had gotten to tell her how I felt before…

 

“I promise to protect you too, not that you need it, but I’m going to watch out for you during the war, because I can’t lose you either,” she reaffirmed. I beamed at her, happy that we were in this together, and I leaned in to kiss her. I held her face in my hands and slowly moved my lips against hers, and she wrapped her arms around me and we pressed our bodies together, and underneath the bed it was so easy to get carried away, and I knew – or at least, I was pretty sure – that she could tell how my body was reacting through the thin layer of my pajamas, but I kissed her anyway, and I mean, it wasn’t like I couldn’t tell that her nipples were pressing into my chest – it drove me wild – I had to ignore it – they were so – I focused on her lips and how soft they were and kept kissing her, hoping to god she would just ignore how I was hard and pressing into her body through our clothes, it wasn’t like I could stop it, not when her hands were running all over my back. I ran my fingers lovingly through her straight, soft hair, and she sighed happily against my lips before pulling back from me and resting her head next to mine. I wrapped my arms around her tightly and she looked at me lovingly, her eyes not leaving mine as we held each other tightly in the bed.

 

“I love you, Maggie,” I murmured joyfully.

 

“I love you, Neville,” she responded, and I knew I could never forget how she looked when she said it, her hand reaching up and entering my curly hair and getting lost in it, soothing me into a state of sleepiness.

 

I watched her face as her eyes drooped – mine did too – and I made sure the last thing I saw as I fell asleep so entrapped in her arms was her, so in love with me, with me now, standing by my side through this hell, and making sure I at least would never feel alone again.

 

I was not alone.

 

I had her.

**Author's Note:**

> That was fun! I hope you all enjoyed, and please comment! I will probably write other chapters and scenes - especially Hermione/Harry stuff - from POV's other than Maggie's, so if you have a request, just let me know!


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